


If I never let you go, will you keep me young?

by Ithinkwehaveanemergency



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Domestic Fluff, Falling In Love, Family Feels, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pining, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Canon, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-28 19:16:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19400644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ithinkwehaveanemergency/pseuds/Ithinkwehaveanemergency
Summary: “Don’t give up on him, Barnes.”  Sarah says.  “You both got this far.  You’re here.  Now.  Together.  That's gotta mean something.”Bucky supposes it does.“Yeah, alright.”  Bucky sighs.  He shoots her a defeated look.  “Don’t think I ever knew how to give up anyway.”Post Endgame fic in which nothing really happens, and Sam Wilson is so very loved. (And I leave myself several open doors for this to become a series of post-canon domestic Sambucky fics)





	If I never let you go, will you keep me young?

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Jack Garratt's Weathered

Bucky knows he's in a foreign place when he wakes up.

He doesn't need to open his eyes to know, because the sheets are too soft, the air is too warm, the bed is too evenly firm. The gentle morning light is coming in from a different angle than it used to in Wakanda and it's just this side of too bright.

The room smells of chemically laundered, but pleasantly fresh linens. It doesn't smell like grass and clean goats. It smells familiar.

Comforting.

Bucky’s eyes blink open and all he sees is white.

Everything around him is a soft eggshell white, illuminated by the yellow rays of sunlight. The wooden dresser is the only thing that isn’t lacking color, and even that looks to be the hue of balsa, far too light to be any solid wood Bucky is familiar with.

“You're up.”

Bucky startles. There's usually little chance of anyone sneaking up on him, ever. And yet… Sam sits in an oversized reading chair near the corner of the bed where Bucky has slept. He’s slouched in the chair comfortably, book in hand. Bucky focuses on the book, prioritizing things he can process… like words.

“What the hell is  _ I Never Had It Made _ ? You into  _ baseball _ ?” Bucky speaks softly. His voice is smooth, practiced. Nothing like he expected it to sound considering how tired it feels. “Shouldn’t you be reading  _ How to talk to Birds _ ?”

Sam snorts and then starts to cackle.

Bucky sits up, coming to his senses a little bit more. He's never heard that sound. Careless laughter, cruel chuckles, sure. Bucky secretly loves each and every laugh, even when they're at him. But the unbridled elation in Sam's laugh is foreign.

Everything rushes back to Bucky as he listens to Sam's near hysterical laugh.

The days after the battle, the funeral, planning Steve's trip to the past. The slow creeping realization that his best friend, his soulmate, his brother in arms, was leaving and he wasn't planning on coming back. And then… it was all  _ fine _ . It all fell from his shoulders after seeing Steve on that bench. The exhaustion and relief washed over him like a warm breeze.

They stayed there, together. Bucky remembers sitting, mostly in silence, with the old and the future Captain America until the sun went down.

His memory cuts off there.

“Boy, I am so glad that you're still…  _ you. _ ” Sam says when he settles down from his fit.

“Who else would I be?” Bucky frowns, throwing the cover back to reveal snug, soft, worn-in sweatpants. “And where did I get these pants?

Sam stands, donning the same exact pants.

And they look great.

Sam looks great. He looks comfortable,  _ soft,  _ even, and Bucky appreciates it. Sam is always handsome, and it shouldn’t be a surprise. But it is, for some reason.

Bucky doesn't know what to do with that, so he ignores the realization and diverts his focus back to his previous question.

“And the book, what is it?” Bucky adds, just as Sam is finally opening his mouth to respond, trying to distract from the real questions he should be asking, like  _ ‘Where do we go from here?’ _

Sam stands in the open space of the glowing room, his dark, muscled torso bare, a stark contrast to the rest of the room’s too-soft colors.

“It’s one of my favorite books. Haven't read it in years, thought I'd dust it off. You're in my house, man.” Sam supplies with a pleased sigh. “Steve helped me lug you up here. You are really heavy, by the way, even with the new arm. But yeah, you were absolutely dead to the world and he's still a super soldier, old as hell or not. He handled it.”

Bucky nods and huffs in amusement as he tries to picture old-man Stevie carrying him.

“But man, you hadn't actually slept or been eating since before the...  _ everything _ , I guess?” Sam frowns, deep and concerned. “That was like, well over a week without taking care of yourself, man. You've been out for almost a whole day. It’s like… half past two. I was starting to wonder if you'd dehydrate before waking up.”

Bucky nods. He looks pointedly at the glass of water on the dresser.

“ _ Yeah _ , man. Drink. You need to get some fluids in you.” The younger man hands over the glass and watches as Bucky gulps the whole thing down steadily. After he grabs the empty glass, he leaves the room.

Bucky looks around again. The walls are mostly bare. Not even as much as a framed stock photo or wall clock.

“It's a spare room.” Sam speaks, walking back in with a glass of orange juice.

Bucky accepts it, but instead of taking a sip, he stares into the bright-colored liquid.

“I ate.” He says, finally. He takes a sip of the juice. “Just not much after I realized that Steve wasn't planning on coming back to us. I was nervous. He looked at me while we were talking about him making the last jump… It was like…”

“He asked you if you'd be okay.” Sam speaks the realization out loud. He stares with wide, surprised eyes as Bucky drinks the rest of the juice. “He told you.”

“Not explicitly, but yeah. And he did give me the chance to stop him.” Bucky shrugs. “To tell him that this world needs him. That  _ I  _ need him. But it wasn’t a hard question.”

Bucky stands from the bed. He and Sam are toe to toe. Sam takes the empty glass from him.

“Steve Rogers has already been everything I needed. And more.” Bucky shakes his head and stares at their bare feet. “Even now, he's… Nothing could make me happier than knowing he finally got to live out a normal life. It's all I ever wanted. Him to take care of himself instead of others. When he was that scrawny thing I’d worry wouldn't survive the pneumonia from the winter season then found out he’d been scrappin’ with some punks in the streets, or when I discovered he’d made himself a superhuman shield between America and the rest of the universe… This was always all I wanted for him.”

“Damn, Barnes.” Sam chokes out, making the super soldier look up at him, concerned. Sam scrubs at his red eyes with his free hand. “Get your sappy ass into the kitchen before you make me cry again. The one person I was counting on to  _ not _ get sappy on me-  _ jesus _ .”

Bucky snorts and allows Sam to shove him out of the room.

*****

After a hearty brunch, they sit at the kitchen table in companionable silence. The third seat at the table has Captain America's shield propped up in it.

They sip their coffee and stare at the shield.

“You know I don’t know what I’m doing? I told him as much when you passed out last night.” Sam inhales sharply. “I  _ didn't  _ tell him that I think someone like you deserves this instead.”

“Nah. That's your burden to bear, man. I’m no hero.” Bucky smiles softly. He turns away, looking over his shoulder out the window as a light drizzle starts to fall, even as the sun shines through. “But you can bet your ass I'm still going to be standing behind it.”

Bucky turns to stare at Sam, still smiling.

“Behind  _ you _ .” Bucky clarifies, ignoring the way his heart is beating loud in his chest at his own admission. “I've got your back, Wilson. I'm not going anywhere.”

Sam swallows and looks down at his coffee. He looks like he's desperately holding back a sigh of relief. Or possibly tears of relief. It's been that kind of week, Bucky figures anything is possible.

“I was hoping… I don't think I could be...” Sam starts. He clears his throat and looks back up into Bucky's kind eyes. “I don't think it'd really be Captain America without Bucky Barnes.”

Bucky laughs, delighted and soft. He reaches out and pats Sam on his chest twice with the open palm of his right hand, trying not to linger there on the comforting warmth, before standing up from the kitchen table.

“Damn right it wouldn't.”

Bucky cleans up, as Sam did most of the cooking.

After that, Sam gives him the three-dollar-tour and tells him that even if eventually he wants to get a place of his own, he'll always be welcome at Sam's. The room is for him to do with as he pleases.

“It's not like I have much stuff to fill it with.” Bucky shrugs and looks around the small room again.

“Me either, man. We'll work on that too.” Sam chuckles and heads for his own bedroom.

Bucky nods to himself in the empty space. He doesn't see himself needing more that this. Four walls to call his own, and Sam Wilson just on the other side of one of them. He wonders if maybe Sam will let him borrow that book he was reading.

Bucky used to like baseball. He makes a note to himself as he gets in bed to ask Sam if they can go see a baseball game sometime.

For the first time in a long time, despite how foreign it all is, despite the fact that Steve isn’t part of it, he sort of feels like he’s got a place to call home.

*****

The next morning, Sam leaves for a meeting with Hill and Fury before Bucky is awake. The only trace of him is a few hundreds on the kitchen table with a note.

‘ _ Go buy some clothes. You need more than the skinny jeans you got from Barton and your tac gear. Like a non-leather jacket, maybe? A nice pair of slacks? -Sam’ _

“ _ Meh _ . I like Hawkeye’s stretchy pants.” Bucky grumbles aloud into the empty townhouse.

He’s glad he missed Sam this morning. The heavy weight of the past couple days is starting to sink in, and the way he’s starting to get a heady feeling every time he even looks at Sam has Bucky swimming around in his own brain. He knows it's been growing a long time, his fond affection for the usually antagonistic man. But since Thanos, since everything got so serious, there's been less teasing and flirting. There's more comfort and caring.

He feels like he should take some time to figure out what's going on inside his head and his heart before he finds himself face to face with his friend again.

He looks around the first floor, taking in the small living area right outside the kitchen. The fireplace has four framed photos on the mantle, but there's not much else to prove the home has any residents. He wonders if its sparse decor is because of the extensive time away or if Sam always had so little clutter.

Bucky stops in front of an old picture of what is definitely Sam’s high school graduation. He’s standing next to several other guys in red caps and gowns. There’s a lone girl in the picture, pressed against Sam’s side forcefully with an identical grin to Sam’s.

Sam’s sister, Sarah, Bucky figures. The young woman had been the first person Sam had contacted when the dust cleared. Bucky and Steve had been at his side.

Sarah hadn't lost faith that the missing would come back. The five years that her brother and several of her friends were gone, she had kept the house well taken-care of and clean. Sam could even go home immediately, the power was still on. 

When Sam had called her, she’d just laughed and said, “I just  _ knew _ your friend, Steve? I knew he would fix this. I knew he and his people had to be trying all along. Let me know when you get home, man. We’ll come by ASAP. The key is in the ugly blue planter where you always left it.”

Bucky thinks about how bittersweet Steve’s smile had been at that call, at what he’d lost in the fight to get Sam and everyone else back to where they belong. He thinks about the two fallen heroes that just added to the long list of people that Steve had loved dearly and never got to say goodbye to.

Bucky swallows the lump is his throat and reminds himself that Steve isn't sad anymore. He’s lived a nice, quiet life, where he finally put himself first.

A key turns in the front door lock behind Bucky and he whips around, reaching to his thigh for a gun that isn’t there. He looks up, panicked, just in time to come face to face with an equally panicked, very attractive, strangely familiar young black woman. She hovers there, with her hand still on the key in the door. Bucky takes in her appearance. She’s thin, muscular, likely no more than 30. She’s wearing minimal makeup, her shimmering copper lipstick the only obvious enhancement, and has a colorful scarf around the roots of her dark, plaited hair, which is tied in a large bun atop her head. She blinks at Bucky with beautiful brown eyes that he knows already from pictures.

“You're him.” She gasps, voice barely above a whisper. “You're  _ actually _ James Buchanan Barnes. Holy  _ shit _ .”

Bucky tenses and then relaxes immediately when he remembers why he’s seen her before and where he’s heard her voice.

“Sarah?” Bucky tries, his brow furrowed.

“Holy freaking  _ shit _ .” The woman says again, a delirious sort of smile spreading across her face. She nods and then shakes her head. “Yeah, yeah that's me. Sorry, it's just… I did a report on the Howling Commandos my senior year of high school, well before the whole…  _ Hydra Reveal _ . It would’ve been back when Sam was serving, I remember him giving me  _ such _ shit about it because he’d done the same report a couple years before. And okay, yeah, I knew  _ in theory _ you'd be here, but seeing you is something else completely. I cannot  _ believe _ you're real, oh man.”

Bucky nods, only taking in half of rambling from the fast-talking woman. He looks down and takes in the canvas bags that she’s holding. He steps forward quickly.

“Let me help you.” Bucky grabs the totes out of her hand.

“Oh, yeah. Thanks. Appreciate it.” Sarah smiles at him and finally takes the key from the door. She follows behind him to the kitchen where she puts her oversized purse down next to where Bucky is setting the bags. “Wow, that thing is  _ crazy _ .”

Bucky looks up at her in confusion and then follows her line of vision to his arm. After which, he belatedly realizes he’s shirtless. Sarah doesn't seem too offended or phased by it at all, just filled with wonder. Then Bucky remembers she was an EMT, now probably still a trauma nurse, according to Sam. She has probably seen things much more gruesome than the scarring around his prosthetic.

Her eyes are glued to the black and gold arm in wonder as he rotates it slowly. He flexes and extends his fingers and holds his palm out. The past week of use has gotten him to the point he barely remembers it exists, considering how weight appropriate it is compared to his old arm. The only reminder is how much lighter he feels in general as he walks, no strain on his neck from the heavy sovietmade arm.

“Oh. Yeah. Its Wakandan.” Bucky shrugs, bringing it back down to his side.

Sarah’s eyes light up, her candid focus on the arm forgotten.

“You guys gotta take me there next time you go. I heard that's where you were living before the…” Sarah trails off and then waves a hand around, which seems to be how most people are referring to the five years that Bucky, Sam and half the world didn't exist. Bucky nods in confirmation and she grins at him. “I would  _ love _ to see it. Sam said it was the most beautiful place he'd ever seen.”

“Without a doubt.” Bucky grins back, thinking fondly of Shuri and the children, and even the goats.

Sarah becomes distracted by the money on the table. She picks the note up and holds it up in Bucky’s direction.

“Yeah, I don't know…” Bucky makes a face and shakes his head.

Sarah looks him up and down, taking in the pair of Air Force sweats that seem to be a bit short for him.

“I mean… No offense, but you look like you could use it. And I'm guessing this is from your new employer? Unless my brother is somehow rolling in dough despite him being a fugitive the last time he was on this plane of existence.”

Bucky snorts.

He glances up at Sarah and gives her a twisted smile. S.H.I.E.L.D. has been the last thing on his mind, content to let Sam deal with the logistics of their return while Bucky stays home and tries to get used to the 21st century all over again.

He bites his lip, realizes how much he really trusts Sam to take care of him, and quickly sucks in a breath pushing the thoughts aside once again.

“It’s probably from Fury, yeah.” Bucky nods. “Though, I'm not sure whether I work for them or if I'm their prisoner. It's all a little fuzzy right now.”

“Then go crazy with their money, bro. They owe you, anyway.” Sarah reaches out and smacks his bare chest with the back of her hand in a teasing manner.

Bucky narrows his eyes at her boldness.

He almost flinches in surprise when he gets a sharp, playful set of eyes narrowed right back at him.

“Sam won’t be back from his meeting with Fury for a couple hours.” Bucky grunts. He starts for the stairs to go throw on a presentable outfit. He turns to face the younger Wilson, glare still firmly in place. “I’m leaving in five. Wanna help me out with my homework?”

“Oh my god,  _ yes _ .” Sarah shoots him a wide toothy grin and claps her hands together, her voice rising at least an octave as she squeals in excitement. “I am so glad you asked. I love shopping.”

*****

Bucky handles the mall pretty well, despite the overwhelming amount of options.

“How about this one?” Sarah holds up a maroon button up thats teetering just on the edge of too hawkeye-colored.

“Let's stick with the more blue and green ones, maybe?”

“Oh come on.” Sarah rolls her eyes. “Fine, we’re at least getting something patterned then-  _ Ooh _ !”

Bucky looks up again from where he’d been reading a graphic tee.

“No.” He frowns at the black and white checkered shirt. “That's a chessboard. Why would I want to look like a chessboard? Sam would never let me hear the end of it.”

“Oh ho  _ ho _ .” Sarah grins. “Don’t you even let Sam Wilson make fun of  _ anything _ you choose to wear. That boy… I will  _ break out _ the pictures of younger him in his ‘Usher Phase’ and he will zip it  _ real  _ quick. Mmhmm… crochet knit caps and jean vests and awkward bright-colored leather pants.  _ Yeah _ . All at once.”

Bucky arches an eyebrow at Sarah in disbelief, but she just nods at him and shakes the checkered shirt again.

“I don’t know who Usher is, so I can’t picture this at all.” Bucky frowns. He winces at the thought of himself in the shirt. “I’ll try it on, but only if you show me  _ all _ the pictures. All of them.”

“They’re pre-facebook, so I’ll prolly have to dig them up, but you got a deal.” Sarah holds out the shirt and grabs two more at the last second, shoving them at Bucky as well, who simply shakes his head and walks toward the dressing room. Sarah stops following him, distracted by a display. “Ooh. Wait! Try these shorts on too!”

Bucky dodges around a display, speeds up a bit, and manages to slide into a stall before she can catch up. This apparently makes no difference, because a pair of golf shorts fly over the door and hit him in the face a second later.

“Fucking Wilsons.” Bucky shakes his head fondly and adds them to his pile of clothes, trying to keep himself from imagining Sam in non-uniform leather pants.

*****

“So then, my son sees his uncle on the TV and gets all sorts of ideas about wanting to be a superhero and I'm stuck patching up scrapes and taking him to get a sprained wrist set because he’s gotta break up any fight he sees and protect all the kids getting bullied. That boy is as brave as his uncle and almost as foolish.”

Sarah sips her coffee and sets in down on the porch next to her.

Bucky looks up from where he’s leaning with his back against the railing, sitting two steps down from her. He follows the crooked copper-brown twist of her lips to the dimple on her left cheek, exactly where Sam’s is every time he makes a fond jab at Bucky’s expense. He can see all over Sarah’s face how much she really loves her brother.

He thinks about the months that Sam and Steve had chased him around the world and then the months that Sam had visited Bucky during his recovery. He can't imagine how hard it must have been for Sam to be away from his family so often and for so long.

Bucky’s stomach does that stupid flip it always does when he thinks about the things Sam has done for him and continues to do for him now.

“But then he was gone. Jody was only seven years old. He wasn’t even four when his dad died.” Sarah speaks softly, her smile tight. Bucky’s brow furrows as he thinks about Sam never mentioning a brother-in-law when he talked about Sarah, but then lets it go as she keeps talking. “We Wilsons have already lost so much, that losing half the world felt like something we’d been practicing for.”

Bucky’s heart hurts.

She laughs humorlessly, picking at an artful tear in the knee of her jeans. 

“Sam,” she chokes out, “He was always my rock. He’s all we had left. I knew he had to be coming back to me. To  _ us _ . This world just wouldn't make sense without Sam Wilson. He’s not just my son’s hero. He’s my hero too.”

Bucky nods his agreement, knocking his knee gently against her shoe.

“Yeah. He’s done a helluva lot for me. I know it was for Steve, but… He didn't have to. He’s sort of my hero too.” Bucky agrees, meeting her shining eyes when she looks up. He knows it's silly to compare how he feels about a man he’s known such a short time to the lifetime of feelings she's expressing, but he feels like Sarah understands Bucky better than he understands himself right now.

He reaches up and touches her knee with his vibranium hand. She smiles at him and places her own hand on top of it. He wants to say something to comfort her. To let her know it's okay. Sam’s okay. He’s not going anywhere. And neither is Bucky.

“I'm sorry we failed. I'm sorry you had to live through all that.”

“Don't be sorry. You have no reason to be sorry.” Sarah laughs, gripping his prosthetic fingers tight. “Just watch his back for me, yeah. I don't know what I’d do if I lost him again.”

Bucky’s breath catches and he nods at her again.

“Yes, ma’am. That, I can do.”

An Escalade with blacked out windows pulls up and Sam gets out of the back seat. Bucky stands and helps Sarah to her feet. Before she can get even footing, she's leaping off the steps and sprinting towards her brother, who catches her in a tight hug before even shutting the car door.

Bucky lets them have their moment, picking up the discarded coffee mugs and walking back into the house to start washing up for dinner.

Fifteen minutes pass and the sun is just starting to set when Sam finally walks back in the house, alone.

“I leave you alone for one day, Barnes…” Sam laughs as he walks in the kitchen sans jacket and shoes. “ _ One _ day, and you've already charmed my sister. She thinks you're the second coming of Keanu Reeves, I swear. And just  _ how _ does she know how many abs you have?”

“Hey now.” Bucky blushes and shuts the sink off. He spins around, wiping his hands on a dish towel. His chest clenches again when he gets a good look at Sam. He’s tired and comfortable and has the little glimmer in his eye that shows he’s just been crying outside with Sarah. Bucky slaps on a smile and holds his dry hands up in surrender. “I didn't do anything. I was a perfect gentlemen and pretty much just let her boss me around all day. She spent all the money you left and everything.”

“Yep.” Sam nods. “Sounds like Sarah’s dream guy.”

Bucky frowns, but doesn't say anything.

“She’s coming back tomorrow, told me to remind you to start on the ribs before she gets here? Apparently we’re having a  _ barbeque _ ? Damn, man, you got comfortable in my house real fast. Getting cozy with my  _ sis _ , hosting  _ parties _ ...”

Sam laughs, fond and happy. Bucky can’t help the way his chest tightens a little at the sound.

He grabs a beer from the fridge. Sam’s favorite, which Sarah had brought earlier. He holds it out to Sam, who takes it with a grateful smile. Bucky leans back against the sink while Sam takes a sip and relaxes into a chair.

“It wasn't like that, y'know. I’m not into-” Bucky crosses his arms defensively and fidgets in place uncomfortably. He furrows his brow, making poignant eye contact with the tired-looking man across the room. “I wouldn't-”

“Barnes, I was teasing. It's cool, man. I’m not gonna get mad at you for being nice to my sister.”

Bucky exhales and relaxes visibly, which makes Sam laugh once again. And soon they're just smiling at each other across the kitchen. Bucky’s eyes land on that dimple he’d seen replicated on Sam’s sister. He feels a distinct warmth and tugging in his chest of home and family and something he doesn't want to put a name to just yet. He clears his throat and looks away before he can think too much on it.

“What did Fury want.” Bucky prompts, moving to get started on dinner.

“He wants to know where we stand. You and I.” Sam answers before taking a big swig of his beer.

Bucky almost breaks the vegetable peeler he’s holding as he grips it tighter and whips his neck around in confusion.

“What?”

“He wants to know if we’re going to work with him. And in turn, the government.” Sam clarifies, smirking. Bucky makes an ‘oh’ face and nods, turning back to face the cutting board and sink full of potatoes he’s washed. “Hold up, are you…  _ Are you cooking me dinner _ ?”

Sam's chair scrapes against the ground as he stands from the kitchen table and closes in behind Bucky, peering over his shoulder.

“Yeah.” Bucky shrugs and reaches for a potato.

The small movement makes his shoulder blades brush against Sam’s chest and Bucky has to tamp down the urge to shiver. He’d become accustomed to Sam’s casual closeness back when they’d been on the run, and again when Sam came to see him in Wakanda, but he’s never craved it like this before. Never wanted to seek it out like a comfort.

He loses himself briefly, imagining a world where he could lean back into Sam’s chest, and the other man would let him. Maybe Sam would even put an arm around Bucky’s waist and press his face into Bucky’s neck.

And Bucky has  _ never _ wanted  _ anything _ like that before in any of his jumbled memories, so his clear his throat in frustration and nods down at his peeled potatoes, setting it in a bowl to the side and grabbing another from the sink.

“Sarah bought groceries for more than just a re-housewarming party. So, I'm making us dinner.”

Sam doesn't respond, just stays standing behind Bucky as he continues to skin the potatoes. Bucky can hear and feel his breath, gentle, yet heavy behind Bucky’s left ear, and he envies Sam’s obvious ease with their proximity.

Sam hums contentedly and takes a swig of his beer before bringing his right hand up to squeeze Bucky’s flesh and bone shoulder.

“What can I do to help?” He asks quietly.

Bucky fights the urge to just do it, to just give in and lean back into Sam’s chest and see what happens. The thumb on his shoulder moves back and forth across the thin fabric of his shirt. He can feel the back of his neck flush warm, so he steps to the side hurriedly and offers Sam the peeler.

“Wanna finish up? I'll get some water boiling for them and you can take over in here while I get the steaks out of the fridge.” Bucky grins as Sam’s eyes go wide with excitement.

“Steak? You sure know how to treat ‘em, baby.” Sam throws a silly grin right back at him before grabbing the peeler out of Bucky’s hand and setting his beer down to get to work.

Bucky tries to breathe normally, just barely keeping his smile from splitting his face clear in two. He chews on his lip until it nearly cracks and focuses on preparing the rest of dinner.

*****

The next morning passes by in a blur.

On their shopping excursion, Sarah had picked out a  _ ‘perfect summer-shindig ensemble’  _ for Bucky, but he’d changed outfits four times anyway, telling himself he looks ridiculous in every article of clothing with even a hint of color. He finally throws back on the airy light blue button up shirt that Sarah picked, but keeps Clint’s worn, pilfered skinny jeans instead of the new straight legged ones she’d made him buy.

By the time Sarah gets there, Bucky and Sam have started setting up the backyard.

Bucky is introduced to Jody.

Jody, a tall, moody twelve year old, simply raises his chin in acknowledgement as he comes inside, not even uncrossing his arms. Sam looks pretty hurt, and Bucky wants nothing more than to reach across and the space between them and touch him in some way for support, but his body fails him, unsure how to do something even as simple as that.

Luckily, Jody seems to notice how disappointed his uncle is, and it takes all of thirty long seconds for him to cave. He leaps across the short distance between them and wraps his arms around Sam.

“I’m glad you’re back.” Jody rushes the words out. He speaks straight into Sam’s sleeve as Sam tries his best to hug back with both arms pinned to his sides. “I’m really sorry about your friends, but I’m  **_really_ ** glad they brought you back.”

He stops, and the air in the room is heavy until he speaks again, a little softer this time.

“Mom missed you.”

Jody doesn’t let up from his hug and Sarah has to turn around and walk into the kitchen, her eyes red and wet. Sam watches her go with a pained expression before pulling Jody away by the shoulders to get a better look at him.

“Jesus, Jo.” Sam forces out, his voice tight and strained with emotion. He laughs, squeezing his nephew’s shoulders. “Well, shit. You’re  _ old _ .”

“Language!” Sarah yells from the kitchen in a scolding tone.

All three of them laugh like they haven't lost years of time together.

After that, Bucky is sent out to get ice from the store, saving him the awkward position of being there for more teary reunions with the first few extended family members and close friends who arrive.

When he arrives with the ice, he’s quickly introduced to everyone, and it’s time for him to start on his Sarah-assigned cooking responsibilities. He manages to avoid more than easy small talk as people continue to arrive, which helps him stave off the anxiety from having so many strangers in his personal space.

His personal space.

His home.

He’d standing at the stove and stares at the pie tin in his hands, trying not to have an existential crisis about how he’s thrown himself headfirst into Sam Wilson’s life, when both Wilson siblings tumble in through the back door.

“Sarah, what in the  _ fuck _ were you  _ thinking _ ?” Sam hisses.

The bickering pair squeeze into the kitchen where Bucky is putting his pies into the oven. They pause at the sink as Bucky sets the stove timer. Sam crosses his arms against his chest and hunches over, trying to see out into the back yard through the curtained window. “I can't believe you thought it’d be a good idea to invite him!”

“I didn't invite him!” Sarah hisses back, ducking down to peer through the same split in the curtains. “I invited Kat. You know, my best friend? Practically family? One of your favorite people in the world? It's not my fault she brought her cousin!”

“Who are we talking about?” Bucky crowds in over Sarah’s shoulder, trying to peer between both of their heads out to the yard where 15 or so of Sam’s friends and family members were talking and laughing. His eyes settle on where the newest additions to the crowd, Kat and Devin, are hugging people and saying their ‘hello’s. “Devin? He seems nice.”

“Oh he's nice. And gorgeous.” Sarah snorts. “And he's been in love with Sammy since they were like… in elementary school.”

Bucky freezes and then slowly stands up straight, looking between the two siblings.

“Look, he's a good dude!” Sam whisper-shouts. He peers nervously out the window again. “I'm not saying he's not! I'm just saying that this is  _ sort-of-not _ an appropriate time for Kat to be trying to set us up! Again! Not to mention, I haven't seen him in two- No, seven! Seven years! No. Just no, Sarah.”

“ _ Ohhhh _ .” Bucky nods, recalling the way the woman, Kat, had insistently pointed out, rather awkwardly in fact, that she’d brought along her cousin,  _ ‘Who is still single, by the way.’ _

Sarah looks at Bucky, her eyes widening briefly before she gets an excited look on her face. Bucky squints back at her, critically, but she's already moved on to an apology.

“Aw, Bucky, Sam.” Sarah grimaces. She pats each of them on the chest. “She doesn't mean any harm really. She’s a hot mess most of the time, but she’s got a heart of gold. I'll go tell her. She’ll understand.”

Sarah is out the door before Sam can hiss at her, “Tell her? Wait… Understand  **_what_ ** ?”

Bucky purses his lips and stares out the window again where Sarah is pulling aside Kat and speaking directly into her ear. The blonde woman covers her mouth and then puts the same hand on her chest and nods at Sarah. Then she's grinning and leaning in close to whisper back in Sarah's ear, then fans herself. Immediately, both of them are laughing and nodding enthusiastically.

Bucky’s jaw drops open as he realizes what just happened.

“What.” Sam snaps suddenly, jarring Bucky from his thoughts. He frowns in confusion when Bucky faces him again. “What's your face doing?”

“Nothing. Nope. Can you check on my pies?” Bucky says, pointing a vibranium thumb absently back to the oven.

“The pies you put in two minutes ago? Uh huh. I can do that, Barnes.” Sam chuckles as Bucky rushes out to stop Sarah, the screen door clattering against the frame with the force of his exit. Bucky hears Sam’s baffled laughter behind him. “So weird.”

*****

The party is nice.

But it's exhausting.

Bucky is lounging in a lawn chair, near the small play set in Sam’s backyard. Sarah's son and a couple of the other friends’ kids are running around it, rough housing because they're too old for the actual jungle gym. The kids were a lot younger when Sam had first moved in.

Through the course of the party, Bucky has deduced that there was a time, after Jody’s dad passed, that Sarah and the young toddler had lived at the house. Sam had apparently come home from the Air Force around that time, and luckily was able to stay and help with Jody until Sarah got the strength to get back on her feet.

“Hey, you.”

Sarah sits down a couple lawn chairs away from Bucky, swinging her feet up onto the empty one between them. Bucky rolls his head to the side and looks at her. He’s lazy and content from stuffing his face with corn and tri-tip and ribs, and she looks just as sated, although she’s now nursing a giant bright pink and purple cookie.

“You didn't bring any for me?” Bucky frowns in exaggerated disappointment.

“How rude of me.” She giggles.

Bucky joins her low laughter, his head rolling back upright. He sees Sam across the yard, near the gate that leads out front. They meet eyes and Bucky’s laugh settles into a wide smile.

Sam is just staring back at him, his expression unreadable.

Before Bucky can throw the other man a questioning look, Sam is grinning widely at his old childhood neighbor with her husband and kids who they’ve managed to wrangle together. Bucky had met them earlier. They were a nice family, and they had all disappeared together during the time that Sam and Bucky had. Bucky thinks they’ve got to be some of the luckier ones. They never had to be without each other.

Sam walks them out the side gate, shoving leftovers in their hands and telling an animated story that Bucky can’t make out.

“You’re so full of it, you know.”

Bucky’s head twists to stare at Sarah.

“Excuse me?”

“Earlier, with Kat? When you said that nothing was going on. Kat might’ve bought it, but... ” Sarah sighs loudly and then takes a huge bite of her cookie. “We bouwf know tha’sa bunsha bullsh-”

“Language, mom.” Jody scolds, jogging up to them. She chokes a bit on her mouthful of cookie and kicks at him with a long leg. The young man laughs, batting it away easily. “Since all the other kids are gone, can I go inside and play video games?”

“Yeah, sweetheart. Just ask your uncle before touching his stuff.”

“A bunch of it is  _ my _ stuff.” Jody rolls his eyes but agrees, jogging back toward the house.

“Punk.” She calls after him.

Bucky laughs, startled.

“What?” Sarah joins in laughing, swinging the same leg at Bucky this time, despite him being just a bit too far to hit him with her foot.

“Nothin’” Bucky shakes his head. “Used to call Stevie that, ‘sall.”

Sarah is quiet for too long, and Bucky has to look back up at her to make sure she hasn’t fallen asleep. But she’s definitely wide awake, last bite of cookie pressed to her lip, staring at Bucky like she doesn't know if she should say what she’s clearly itching to.

Of course, she’s kin to Sam, so she does.

“Were you in love with Steve Rogers?”

Bucky does his best to hold back his eye roll. It's a familiar, more than understandable question. He just gets sick of answering it so often.

“No.” He turns away from her and stares at the kitchen, where Sam is talking to the remaining three guests, of whom Bucky can’t quite recall the names or relations in his exhausted state. “Don’t mean I didn’t love him more than anything, but no. I wasn’t… Never really thought about a man like that. Y’know, in a romantic way?”

Bucky watches Sam laugh at something, follows the way his head 

“That what’s stopping you from telling my brother that you’re into him?” Sarah lowers her voice as she says it, but Bucky hears the words loud and clear.

His whole body goes rigid and his eyes shut as he debates denying that he feels anything but trust and friendship when he thinks of Sam Wilson.

He takes a deep breath and sees Sam’s smiling face behind his eyelids. And the face he made when Steve gave him the shield. And the look of relief when Bucky said he wasn’t going anywhere.

And then the pure joy and wonder from when Jody had hugged him.

“It’s not that. But it's also not that easy, Sarah.” Bucky doesn’t deny anything. He can’t avoid his growing attachment. It won‘t do anything to lessen the feelings that keep growing every day, filling the aching space beneath his ribcage.

“It could be.” Sarah whispers, kicking at him again despite the futility of the movement.

“Yeah, maybe in some universe, for some other version of us, it could be.” Bucky shrugs.

He thinks about Wakanda. He wonders what it would have been like if Thanos had never come for them. He thinks maybe Sam would’ve kept visiting. Maybe they would have gotten to know each other better before being forced into another fight. Maybe Sam would’ve brought Bucky to meet Sarah and Jody and he would've gotten to know a younger version of both of them.

“But it isn't.” He says, finally.

“Don’t give up on him, Barnes.” Sarah says. “You both got this far. You’re here. Now.  _ Together _ . That's gotta mean something.”

Bucky supposes it does.

“Yeah, alright.” Bucky sighs. He shoots her a defeated look. “Don’t think I ever knew how to give up anyway.”

*****

The days following the welcome-home-party are hectic.

Bucky finally agrees to meet with Fury and Hill. They grab dinner at a government building Bucky’s never seen. A woman named Carol Danvers is there. She's strong and beautiful and reminds Bucky a bit of the Thor he saw briefly in Wakanda, before it all went to shit. Bucky likes her more than Fury, and the affectionate way she treats the shady one-eyed man makes him seem a lot softer than Bucky has ever assumed him to be.

Bucky gets caught up on all the things that happened in the world for the last five years. It's easier for him to process than most people, he supposes, since he didn’t know all that much about the modern world except what he had to. He was with the only people in the world he knew when it all went down, anyhow.

They all explain the larger picture when it comes to protecting the world they've just put back together. Danvers states that she’s been dealing with near-world-ending villains already, even though it's been mere  _ days _ since they returned.

Bucky doesn’t need to hear more. He looks at Sam and knows the man’s mind has been made since before they looped Bucky in.

In their second day of meetings, Hill comes to their house instead. By the time Bucky gets downstairs after a shower, contracts are open on the kitchen table.

“Nothing shady at all, I promise.” She huffs with a dry laugh. “But take as much time as you need to read through them to make sure. We have two other individuals who’ve signed on already. Danvers is, of course, not working under any sort of contract or receiving compensation, but I have copies of the other offers we’re putting on tables, so that you know who you’d be working with. If any of these people aren’t someone you’d want beside you in a fight? Now is the time to speak up.”

“And we would answer to you?” Sam arches an eyebrow at her over the contract he’s skimming over.

Bucky sees Hill’s mouth twitch slightly before she stands up, pulling out one of the contracts from the stack she’d said were their future teammates. She slides it across the table and points to the name filled in at the top.

“Not really, Sam.” She smiles, standing up straight. She grabs the briefcase she’d brought with her. “In the field, I would answer to you.”

Bucky watches her walk away while Sam picks up the papers she’d pushed toward him.

“Aren’t you a bit above field work, Maria?” Sam calls over her shoulder as she opens the front door.

She snorts and calls back, “Don't really think there's anything above being an Avenger, is there?”

The front door slams shut and Bucky looks at Sam.

“Guess not.” Sam sighs, flipping through the pages of Maria’s contract. It's signed at the bottom, and longer than most of the other contracts, but it does say that she, as a member of the Avengers, would follow the direction of Captain America.

Sam will officially take the title if he signs the official S.H.I.E.L.D. contract.

Bucky knows that the moment Sam signs the papers, Bucky will too. He watches Sam put the contract aside, unsigned. Bucky does the same.

*****

“Do you ever wanna just…” Bucky starts, then takes a sip of his water. Sam looks up at him. He takes a bite of the leftover macaroni salad and raises an eyebrow at Bucky. So, Bucky tries again. His heart is beating hard against his ribcage as he steels himself for Sam's reaction. “Do you ever think that Steve  _ really _ had it right? Settling down? Taking what you want without thinking about the rest of the world? You ever wish we could do that?”

Sam swallows his food and is silent for a moment, fork in hand, frozen over his plate.

Bucky thinks that maybe Sam gets it. Maybe,  _ deep down, _ Sam wants the same thing as Bucky. Maybe that’ll be enough. Even though they’ve both got to go work for S.H.I.E.L.D. and make sure that nothing like Thanos or Hydra ever threatens the world again, maybe it’ll be enough to know that if they didn’t have to, they could make a real go of it.

But Sam doesn’t get it.

“You don't have to do this. Sign, I mean. I know I said-"

Sam pauses, nods determinedly at the space next to Bucky's left shoulder.

"I won’t blame you if you walk away. And you'd still be welcome here. Sarah’s great, Buck.” Sam nods and smiles. It doesn't quite reach his tired eyes, but his tone is fond and sincere. It makes the rising balloon of hope in Bucky’s chest pop with a sharp, violent pressure against his sternum. Sam just keeps nodding as he looks down at his dinner, pushing it around his plate. “She is. She deserves the world after what she's been through, though. She and Jody… they deserve someone who’ll be good to them. Who won’t leave them.”

“I definitely agree.” Bucky nods back, gritting his teeth. He pushes back from the table sharply, his chair screeching across the linoleum as he stands. “But I said before, when you  _ clearly _ didn't hear me, I've got no interest in your sister. Not like that. And they have  _ you _ , Sam. You always seem to forget about  _ you _ .”

Bucky grabs his plate and puts it in the sink. He doesn't bother rinsing it before stalking to the door and slipping on his brand new tennis shoes.

“Need some air. Gonna go for a walk.” He calls over his shoulder.

He doesn't look back at Sam or wait for any acknowledgement at all before he slams the door behind him.

*****

Bucky stares up at the dark Virginia sky.

He’s wandered far enough that he’s got no clue if he’s actually looking at the stars over Virgina or not.

His phone buzzes in his pocket once.

He doesn’t know if it's Sam or Sarah, or… Steve could be hitting him up. The old man hasn’t gone back to his own time, apparently. He’s been hanging out with Bruce Banner, of all people. The Hulk is a national icon. He’s not sure how he has time to hang out with a billion year old super soldier.

Bucky hasn't heard from him since the day he left. Or came back. Whatever.

Bucky doesn’t look. He’s not too curious right now either way.

Apparently the person who messaged him doesn’t accept that, and soon his pocket is vibrating incessantly with a phone call. He pulls the phone up to his face and is greeted by a cheesy picture of the big green man he’d just been thinking about.

“Yeah?” Bucky answers, narrowing his eyes up at the sky.

_ “Bucky?! Hey pal!” _ It's Banner alright.  _ “Hey so, we’ve got a bit of a project we really could use your help with. And uh…” _

Bucky’s eyes squint even further, despite the fact that Banner can’t see his suspicious glare.

_ “Steve didn't want me to ask you. Said something about giving you space or whatever. But that's crap right? You don't need space from your best friend of a hundred friggin' years.” _ Bruce scoffs loudly. Then he goes quiet for a moment before clearing his throat.  _ “Do you? _

Bucky lets him wonder for a couple more quick moments, just because he’s Bruce Banner and he’s ridiculous and overbearing and he deserves to sweat a bit.

“You got a jet, Banner?” Bucky answers, finally. “I could use a ride.”

As soon as he gets on the aircraft an hour later, he shoots Sam a text.

_ ‘Gonna be gone for a while. Sorry. I’ll text you tomorrow.’ _

*****

“Sure you don’t wanna give it a try?” Bruce points at the small, human-sized controller in front of the console.

“Jody taught me how to play something called,  _ Mortal Kombat _ ?” Bucky squints critically at the screen and then the large green man next to him. “This looks much worse.” 

“Oh! So, you've met Sarah!” Bruce’s voice raises to an excited pitch. He spins around to face Bucky and his giant toothy grin is a bit jarring.

Bucky hasn't really had any experience with the Hulk, and definitely thinks it’s weird that this man is very large and green. Despite having fought side by side with a talking tree and raccoon, a big-green-spectacled-Bruce smiling at him is still strange enough that he doesn’t respond.

“Sarah and Jody are great.” Bruce continues. “Jody is a real smart kid. He taught me a lot of the fun Gen Z lingo, and about this game! Though I don’t get into it like Thor and Korg. That's just… overkill. It's why I’m so hip with the kids, though. He taught me everything I know. Jody is the  _ man _ .”

“Were you and Sam close?” Bucky asks after a beat.

Bruce loses his smile and turns back around. 

“No. No, I didn’t know Sam… before.” He answers softly. His voice goes into a low rumble and Bucky can feel the sadness in the vibrations. “In the beginning, when things were chaotic… Cap’s first priority had been to check on them, and then when he confirmed they were alive, to tell Sarah what happened. I went with him. For support.”

The Hulk sighs and walks toward Bucky, sitting down on the opposite side of his oversized couch. He still looks a bit too big for it, but he’s the Hulk. He looks big no matter what he does.

“Sarah knew. She said she felt it in her bones.” Bruce brings a hand up and takes his glasses off. They hang delicately from his large fingers as he scrubs the back of his wrist against his closed eyelids. “Steve kind of… lost it after that. And he would send things to try and help, but he just couldn't go back. He couldn't face them. It was really hard on him, losing you and Sam. But it was harder feeling like he’d failed Sarah and Jody, especially when they’d already lost Riley.”

“Riley?” Bucky’s face scrunches in confusion. He’d heard Steve mention him, when they’d talked about how he and Sam met. That was back before Bucky went in the ice. He didn’t know much, except that Riley was Sam’s Bucky, according to Steve. They’d joined the Air Force at the same time and they were in the Exo project together. Bucky hadn’t gone back after losing Riley.

“Jody’s dad.” Bruce answers, his large, dark eyebrows drawing together.

“ _ Shit _ .”

Bucky can’t really think straight. He’s putting together all sorts of weird connections and developing a lot of questions.

“I feel like…” Bruce’s eyes fly open. “I feel like I probably shouldn’t have told you that? It's not like, a secret, though?”

“I don’t think so.” Bucky answers softly, pulling his phone out. He has ten new messages. He turns his phone off. “I don’t… From how Steve mentioned Riley, I figured they were the ones who were... y’know...”

Bruce lets out a startled laugh. Bucky frowns at him, so Bruce puts his glasses back on and arches an eyebrow at Bucky.

“It's just a bit hypocritical of you to jump to that conclusion, considering what everyone always thought of you and Steve. Unless… there was ever any truth in that?”

“Nah. Not a lick. I suppose you’re right, that was pretty presumptuous. Steve just made it seem like he’d lost someone he was in love with.” Bucky tilts his gaze down and shrugs in agreement.

“Maybe he was, once. Anyway.” Bruce brushes the possibility aside and goes on with the story. “So, I kept in touch with Sarah. Not that she really needed any help, because Steve always said, ‘ _ She’s just like Sam. Strong and stubborn as all hell. _ ’”

That makes Bucky smile, and when he looks up at Bruce, the man’s got hearts in his eyes.

Bucky doesn’t blame him. Those Wilsons are something else. But Bucky can’t help but wonder if there's more to the reverence in Bruce’s storytelling.

“When I became… this?” Bruce motions to his body. “They were the first people I showed. Once I knew I was stable, of course. And obviously, Jody thought it was awesome, cause he was…  _ nine _ , but-”

Bruce sighs wistfully and Bucky holds back a laugh, noting he no longer needs to wonder about the  _ more to it _ question.

“Sarah just smiled at me, bigger than she ever had before. She said,  _ ‘It’s nice to finally meet the real you.’ _ ” Bruce sniffles. “She’s… she’s something else. I haven’t talked to her in months. I’ve talked to Jody on instagram, of course. I really miss them both.”

“Well, once we’re done here, I guess you’ll have to come by the house and we can all have dinner.”

Bruce’s eyes light up at the suggestion.

“Yeah, that sounds nice.”

“Glad to see Sam hasn’t killed you out of annoyance yet!” Steve’s voice rasps out from behind them.

Bucky stands abruptly and turns around to face his friend. It's only been a few days, but Bucky had already forgotten how old and tired Steve looked that day. He still looks so much like himself, leaning against the doorframe with a hip cocked out.

“What’s up buddy!” Bruce shouts excitedly. “Hey, so, we should all catch each other up on some things, yeah? How bout I order a pizza?”

“Sounds great.” Bucky stuffs his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels. He nods and Bruce and then looks back at Steve while sticking a thumb in the Hulk’s general direction. “Heya, Stevie. Looking…  _ old _ . Oh, hey... D’you know this guys in love in Sam’s sister?”

The Hulk sputters and Bucky swears he sees red on the man’s green cheekbones. It's worth it the way it makes Steve smile and laugh in surprise.

*****

The Hulk and Steve have come up with an idea to get Natasha back.

They don’t want to involve Clint, for obvious reasons. But Steve has had almost an entire lifetime to think about what happened and apparently spent a good amount of his free time in the 90’s learning to be a hacker. Because even when he was physically staying out of the hero world, Steve never could leave well-enough alone.

Steve found some information that implied Hydra had the ability to clone or re-incarnate their agents. Steve was determined to investigate if he could use the information he’d gathered in his timeline to help them get their Natasha back.

Bucky spends six straight hours trying to talk them out of it, and it doesn’t exactly work, but both men have agreed to take a step back and let Bucky look into the research further before they move any further with their mission.

Bucky doesn’t get back home for another half a day after that.

When he does, it’s almost midnight, 29 hours after he’d stormed out of the house. Sam just gives him a look of simultaneous relief and disappointment and goes upstairs to his room.

Bucky feels the guilt creep in after his shower, when he finally turns on his phone. He sees Sam’s nine unread text messages. He reads the last one first, and it simply says,  _ ‘I’m sorry for… not understanding or whatever. I’m here if you want to explain it to me. I want to understand.’ _

Bucky thinks about Steve and the way he’d reacted when Bucky had confessed his feelings for Sam in the late hours of the morning. They’d been standing in Bruce’s kitchen, both of them waiting for the big man to shower so they could all grab lunch.

Steve had been visibly surprised. Then he’d grinned and mumbled a ‘ _ good, that’s real good, Buck _ ’ into his coffee before shaking his head and reiterating his surprise from the night before about Bruce having a crush on Sam’s little sister.

The Hulk had clapped him on the back before letting him out of the quinjet, telling him that relationships take work.

Bucky had wondered if he was transparent, or if the big guy had super hearing to go with the super size.

Throwing on sweats and a loose t-shirt, one of Sam’s from before he went shopping, Bucky sits on his bed and looks around the mostly bare room. He looks over to the bedside table and notices that Sam has left the baseball book from the other day next to his lamp. There’s a note on it.

He picks it up and reads the neat block letters.

_ ‘The man served the same time as you, army-drafted just like you. For obvious reasons, he saw a much different side of the war, but I thought you should know before you dive in, in case that wasn't something you're up to reading about.’ _

Bucky blinks, and his eyes go a bit fuzzy. He sets the note down and walks over to Sam’s room, his face set in a frown.

Sam opens the door just a few seconds after he knocks, he’s still dressed and the television is on mute.

“Can I sit with you for a bit?” Bucky’s voice cracks, but he stares straight in Sam’s eyes, pleading silently.

Sam nods instantly and lets Bucky into his room. He walks across the room and settles back on the right side on the still-made bed, his back against the headboard. He pats the left side of the bed and Bucky mirrors his position, glancing at the cartoon that Sam has playing on the screen.

“ _ How to Train Your Dragon _ .” Sam tilts his chin at the tv. “It was a good kid’s show. Big fan. Jody liked it back in the day. We watched the first couple movies together when he was younger. We watched them so much that I started to like them more than he did.”

Bucky nods.

“Wanna watch something?” Sam reaches for the remote, further down on the bed.

“Nah.” Bucky pulls his legs up and twists toward Sam. He scoots down the bed, lying on his right side, head propped up by his flesh arm. “Tell me something I don't know. Anything.”

Sam’s baffled look makes the corner of Bucky’s mouth twitch.

“Tell me about where you went to school.” Bucky grins. “Bet you were Prom King.”

Sam rubs his neck and chuckles.

“Homecoming King, actually. That's the one that the staff and student council decide. And well, I was one of the best students and a star athlete.” Sam boasts with a cheeky grin, and then he seems to lose himself in a memory. His chest shakes with quiet laughter when he continues. “Sarah… now  _ she _ was Prom Queen. She was always the social butterfly. I remember we came back from our first tour in time to see her graduate. Got home just when she was getting ready for Prom. And Riley almost got in a fist fight with her date. I had to pin that dumbass down so he wouldn't get himself in trouble over some young douchebag he used to play baseball with that Sarah picked  _ specifically  _ to fuck with Riley.”

Bucky’s eyes widen at the mention of Riley.

Sam notices.

“You wanna ask me something, Barnes?” He gives Bucky a tired, but mostly amused look.

Bucky shakes his head.

“Just keep telling me things.” Bucky whispers. He feels his eyelids getting heavy, and he lets his head drop, curling his arm underneath, all while still looking expectantly at Sam. “I wanna hear about young Sam Wilson.”

“Yeah, alright.” Sam smiles down at him. “Freshman year of highschool, I ran for student council.  _ Man _ , I wanted to be a  _ politician _ . I cannot believe-”

Bucky doesn’t stay awake to hear the rest of the story.

*****

Bucky wakes up to the smell of bacon and sausage. The scent is sweeter than the breakfast meats he’s used too, but still so mouth watering. He’s out of bed and stepping into the hallway before he’s fully awake.

His foot presses down on a floorboard that creaks loudly, startling himself. None of the floorboards outside his bedroom make noise.

He looks over his shoulder, into Sam’s bedroom, and the night before comes back to him. He frowns when he remembers falling asleep right in the middle of what Sam was saying.

“Hey. Got pancakes down here, Barnes.” Sam’s voice shouts from the kitchen. “And bring me my phone. I think its on the dresser.”

Bucky blinks a couple times before turning back around and walking back into Sam’s bedroom. He looks at the bed, where he apparently slept by Sam’s side. He remembers the quilt being over him as he woke up minutes before. He smiles at the thought of Sam tucking him in.

Bucky takes a minute to will the undoubtedly-dopey look on his face then turns to the dresser. He grabs the phone, and makes his way downstairs.

“I was starting to think you decided to go back to sleep.” Sam teases.

Bucky sets the phone down on the counter, just inside the kitchen. Sam is in running shorts and sneakers. He’s shirtless and still a little sweaty from his morning run. It's a sight Bucky has seen a couple times since they got to D.C., but it still makes him bite his lip and look away.

“Sorry about that.” Bucky says on a quick inhale, clearing his throat when he hears how raw and tired his voice sounds. He walks to the fridge and pulls out the Pineapple Orange Guava Juice that he’d become addicted to, ever since Sarah brough some over that first day. He sets it on the kitchen table and grabs glasses, plates and forks for both of them. “Guess I’m not so good at staying awake for days straight anymore.”

“It's all good.” Sam turns around and nods. “I’m glad you, uh…”

Sam holds in a breath, brings the plate of pancakes, bacon and sausage to the table and sits down next to Bucky. He exhales, heavy and resigned.

“I’m glad you’re home.”

Bucky freezes, stops pouring his glass of juice. He looks at Sam’s neck, his jaw, his mouth, anywhere but his eyes.

Sam’s words ring in his ears. The way he says  _ ‘home _ ’ like it's  _ theirs _ and not just Sam’s. The way he sounds so relieved. The way the words make Bucky feel wanted,  _ needed _ . They shamelessly proclaim that he is  _ loved _ , which is something no one except Steve Rogers has bothered to do in all of Bucky's many, many adult years.

“Sam, I’m-” Bucky looks up into his eyes finally, but when they’re staring right back into his, the apology gets caught in his throat.

“At least tell me they fed you.” Sam smirks. “Steve has to have learned how to cook by now.”

Bucky’s brow furrows in confusion at Sam.

“Bruce texted Sarah early yesterday morning. He didn’t know if you’d told anyone where you’d disappeared to.” Sam explains, stabbing at a couple fluffy pancakes and loading his plate up with food. “Didn’t want us to worry.”

Bucky sighs, picking up his juice and bringing it up for a large drink. He finishes off the glass and watches Sam eat for a minute. When it becomes clear that Sam isn’t keen on saying anything else, Bucky swallows his pride and continues his earlier attempt at an apology.

“Sorry for turning off my phone.” Bucky offers. He pushes at his plate, rearranges his place-setting sheepishly. “I’m sorry I left at all. I wish I was better at this.”

“At what?” Sam says around a bite of sausage. He doesn’t look up from his food, cutting perfectly-sized bites of pancake with practiced ease.

Bucky grabs a piece of sugary bacon. He eats it, slowly and thinks about everything he could say.  _ Being a good friend to you. Talking to you. Dealing with my feelings for you. Telling you that I think I’m in  _ **_love_ ** _ with you. _

“You.” He huffs instead, frustrated.

He puts his fork down, holds his breath and searches Sam’s face desperately for a reaction.

The man beside him slows the movement of his jaw for a moment, but doesn’t give any other reaction. Bucky lets out the breath he’s holding, trying not to let the sinking feeling in his stomach get to him. When Sam’s done chewing the bite in his mouth, he looks up at Bucky and raises an eyebrow.

“Eat your pancakes, Barnes.” Sam says quietly and goes back to his own breakfast without another word.

And that's fine. Bucky isn’t sure what he expected anyway. It was a strange thing to say. It didn’t explain anything, and he almost wishes he could take it back. Save them both the confusion of wondering what the hell is going on in Bucky’s head.

But he can’t.

Bucky ignores the turn of his stomach and the clawing feeling beneath his ribcage as he stares resolutely into his buttery pancakes.

A few moments of silence later, Sam knocks his knee into Bucky’s and then leaves it there, pressing gently. Bucky looks up from his food to find Sam staring at him, his plate clean.

“Flying to New York again today.” Sam says, sipping his juice. He tips his chin up and raises his brow in question. “Come with me this time?”

“Of course.” Bucky whispers the answer, the sound coming out too strained, like he’d been holding in a breath for too long.

Sam smiles into his glass as he takes the next sip.

He doesn’t move his knee.

*****

On the plane, Sam finishes the story about freshman year and student council elections and how he’d lost to some girl named Kacie Foster who’d been his playground rival since kindergarten.

She had gone on to become Senior Student Council President, Captain of the Varsity girl’s soccer team, and Valedictorian. Sam had left his politician dreams behind midway through high school, and they became good friends. Sam had taken her as a date to Senior Homecoming, when they were both shoe-ins for King and Queen.

Sam starts laughing as he tries to recount the way Kacie had cornered him in the courtyard while they were taking pictures, and told him that he would be the perfect beard during her future political career and that she would make sure he could be taken care of,  _ discretely  _ of course, if he wanted to pursue a long term partnership with her in her fourteen year plan to become a congresswoman.

Sam hadn’t even known she was a lesbian, but he had politely declined the offer and told her that he fully believed that people like them would be accepted in politics one day soon. Especially if people like Kacie are brave enough to make it part of their platform.

By the time they land, Bucky has a stitch in his side from laughter at the entertaining way Sam reenacted parts of Kacie’s speech. But that hurt less than the teeth marks in his bottom lip from biting back the urge to kiss the kind, gorgeous, charismatic man beside him.

He wonders if every day is going to be like this from now on, Bucky pining away like some kind of sucker in a sappy romance novel.

After Sam hip checks him while they're waiting for car service and throws him a wide grin, Bucky thinks that wouldn’t be too bad.

They land in no time at all.

They meet Pepper, Fury, and a bunch of suits at another government building that neither has been in before. Pepper is in charge of the World Repair Coalition press.

Because of course she is.

The tirelessly beautiful woman starts off their meeting by thanking everyone and saying that she swears she’ll take some time off after this. At Sam’s arched eyebrow, she promises to be as hands off as possible with everything except press.

Pepper just wants to make sure she helps, they all know that. Tony would have done the same if he were here. Thinking about Tony and how he never got to know the man who’d made such a difference in the world makes Bucky withdraw into his thoughts soon into the meeting. He only comes back to full attention when Sam grasps his right wrist under the table gently.

Bucky doesn’t flinch, much to his own surprise. He just looks over at Sam and gives in to his desire to press himself further into the touch.

“You good?” Sam whispers, low enough that no one else would be able to hear. He flicks his eyes up to Bucky’s and moves his thumb lightly across the back of Bucky’s wrist, obviously sensing that his comforting touch is more than welcome.

Bucky swallows thickly and nods.

Sam smiles and looks back toward the white house representative to whom Pepper had handed off the podium after an introduction Bucky had missed. He makes a mental note to study up on all of the proposal paperwork for the coalition when they get back home.

They’re done with the meeting quickly and Pepper pulls the two of the to the side to hug them and ask if they're okay. Sam tells her she's an angel and the both of them demand that she call them if she or Morgan need anything.

“Even a babysitter?” Pepper asks with an arched brow. “I’m going to be traveling for this coalition press a lot over the next couple weeks, and neither of you will be required to do much. And Happy’s gonna be busy with Peter. Could always use a couple of superheroes to take Morgan to a museum or park.”

“You’re gonna trust Sam? He’ll probably take ‘er flying.” Bucky jokes with his Brooklyn drawl, dodging a backhand from the man in question.

Pepper shakes her head at them with her kind, motherly, dimpled smile.

“Well, Bucky…” She sighs. “That's what I’ve got you for. You’ve got plenty of experience keeping Captain America in line.”

Bucky laughs loudly as Sam huffs in disbelief and they part ways with one more round of hugs, something Bucky is getting pretty used to being part of this extended Avengers family.

Upon leaving the city, Sam directs the driver to an address Bucky doesn't hear fully, but he knows isn’t the airport. They've past LaGuardia and are leaving Queens by the time Bucky asks. Sam doesn’t look away from the window as he answers.

“I’m taking you to meet someone.” He mumbles into is hand. He’s got a thin sweater on, which seems a bit unnecessary in the 70 degree weather, and he's worrying the seam of a sleeve with his teeth. “It’s important to me. It’ll be alright, Bucky, you'll get on fine.”

Bucky feels like it's not him Sam is trying to convince with his stern words.

*****

“Riley, this is Bucky.” Sam sighs. He picks at the grass in between his feet and then settles his arms around his knees. “He’s  _ the _ Bucky Barnes. Isn’t that crazy? It’s crazy, man.”

Bucky looks at the military grave, identical to the ones around it. Bucky looks around the acres upon acres of land, littered with memorials. The land they’re standing on was far away enough from Brooklyn that Bucky doesn't know for sure if it’d been there when he was younger, but it looks new enough it might not’ve been. Either way, the amount of graves is endless. Just another reminder of the times this country has seen that Bucky hasn’t.

“So, I know I never managed to bring Steve around to visit, but you always liked Bucky Barnes more. Ladies’ man and all that.”

Bucky scoffs at Sam’s narration, finally fully tuning in. He takes a seat on the grass, close enough for Sam to reach for if he wants, but far enough to give him room to breathe in this vulnerable moment.

“Ignore him, he’s apparently oblivious to the fact that his new buff-tortured-hipster look is  _ exactly  _ what people are into these days.” Sam explains to his best friend, picking gently at the grass beside the gravestone. “He’s a good guy. You really  _ really _ would've liked him. I think you really would’ve gotten on. But I’m sure you know, since I’ve brought him here, that he’s pretty important to me, so...”

Sam trails off and sighs.

Bucky had hoped after this morning that Sam understood, but for the first time since then, Bucky lets that pesky feeling of hope rise in his chest. Sam knows how Bucky feels. He knows why Bucky stormed off a couple nights ago. He knows and he’s not running the other direction. He’s not pushing Bucky away.

He’s pulling him closer.

“Buck?” Sam leans over and grips Bucky’s knee. “You still good, man?”

Bucky nods.

“You wanna tell me how you two met?” Bucky smiles, hesitant. This is exactly what he wants. He wants to know everything about Sam. Wants to know about the things that make Sam the amazing person he is. But he’s still terrified of scaring the man away.

“Oh, well…” Sam rolls his eyes, his entire head moving along with the motion. “Riley was a little  _ shit _ as a kid. So we’re in middle school, right? We only spent two years at this particular school, y’know… it's just how they did things-”

Bucky nods and his smile grows stronger as Sam laughs his way through the story of how he met his best friend. His partner in the line-of-duty. And apparently the father of Sam’s only nephew. But Bucky lets that story rest for the day and contents himself with tens of anecdotes about the one-time self proclaimed  _ Bash Bros _ and their journey from intramural hockey to the AirForce.

They leave before they can dig far enough into the stories to get too emotional for Sam to stay composed.

Bucky helps Sam up from the ground, and when they’re both standing, Sam pulls Bucky into a hug.

“Thanks for being here.” Sam mumbles into the shoulder of Bucky’s leather jacket.

“Always.” Bucky responds into Sam’s temple before pulling away.

As Sam calls the car, Bucky shoves his hands in his jacket looks out across the cemetery. He thinks about his old army mates and how he’d like to visit their memorials sometime, now that his memories of them were stronger. Maybe he’ll bring Sam along, regale him with some of the stories Steve wouldn’t already have told, and some that Steve never saw from Bucky’s point of view.

“Hey, so…” Sam pulls Bucky’s attention back to the present day. He smirks, something childlike and excited in his eye, and it's cute as anything Bucky’s ever seen. He has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling back too fondly at Sam. “You wanna miss our flight? Go get pizza or something?  _ Ooooh _ or Peaches? Peaches might still be around, if anything would be in the area. Barton told me about Peaches back when we met and I went and got their catfish last time I was in Bed-Stuy, all in-cognito and shit. Man... best fried food I ever had.”

“Don’t you tempt me with a night out in Brooklyn, pal.” Bucky chuckles, feeling more loose and happy than he has in a couple days. “How’m I supposed to turn that down? You think Fury’ll chew us out for having to take a later flight?”

“Nah.” Sam shrugs. “I’ll call Maria and maybe she’ll pick us up in the quin. She likes me. Bet she’d even offer to get us into some  _ fancy _ hotel room if we wanted.”

Bucky can’t do more than bite his lip and nod silently after the way Sam said ‘hotel room’ with a quick eyebrow raise.

“Or, we could go crash at Steve’s.”

“Nah, I wanna hang out, just the two of us. No reminders of the Avengers and all the work we’ve got ahead of us this year. Definitely no Grandpa-Steve roping me into whatever hairbrained scheme he and Hulk and cooking up.” Sam purses his lips and levels Bucky with a knowing look.

The car pulls up before Bucky can react or think too hard on any of it, and then they’re in the car and Sam is passing on a destination to the driver.

The conversation is behind them, and Bucky can only hang on for the ride as Sam leads them toward their next destination.

*****

In the end, Maria does pick them up in the Quinjet.

Except it's not from a nice complementary hotel after a cute romantic adventure like Sam's words had painted a believable picture in Bucky's head.

It's a bit after 4:00 AM and right outside Hell’s Kitchen. Sam and Bucky had instinctively intervened in an escalating showdown between a rag-tag group of novice supers and a gang made up of mafia-looking guys in tracksuits and then there was a _really strong_ _super_ who seemed caught up in the middle of it that Bucky had never heard of before.

Bucky’s not even sure how midnight had found them in Columbus Circle, but Bucky had been in the middle of telling Sam about the last time he was there and how old and run down the entire place had been. Billboards peeling and illegible from lack of upkeep, fights on all the corners (though that might’ve been mostly the angry young boys coming home from war and not knowing much else but fighting). Bucky was recalling how he’d come by with an old Army buddy right as they’d arrived home from the war. They’d popped in to see the guy’s grandma and his sister on their short time in Manhattan before going back to see Steve.

Bucky had just finished saying how he can’t believe how much nicer they’ve kept the plaza and that ‘the darn thing is still standing’ when a thin woman with black hair barrels through the roundabout, running from an angry looking mob, one of which catches her and throws her with inhuman power against the base of the pillar, making it crack loudly.

The ordeal had ended with the monument mostly intact, but Bucky had sighed as they got on the quinjet a few hours later, saying, “I should’ve knocked on wood.”

Sam had burst into delirious laughter at that, cringing immediately when he felt the soreness in his riba flare up. Maria had turned her neck to face the rear of the jet and told them not to hurt themselves back there.

Sam locks the door behind them when they finally get into the house.

Bucky goes straight to the kitchen for some water, chugging an entire glass before filling it up again and walking back out to the living room.

He finds Sam passed out sitting up on the couch, shoes kicked off in front of him. His chin is resting on his chest, arms crossed just below that.

Bucky takes another moment to watch Sam sleep before setting his glass down and trying to shake Sam awake. Sam snores at the gentle movement, his head lolling to the side. Bucky smiles and picks the clearly exhausted man up, effortlessly. He makes it all the way up the stairs and sets Sam down in bed without him stirring at all. It's not until Sam goes to curl on his side, into his pillow, that he blinks awake.

“Bucky?” Sam whispers, confusion passing over his face briefly until he looks around. “Oh man, did I fall asleep? I fell asleep sitting up, didn’t I? Sorry.”

“It's no problem.” Bucky shakes his head, starting to feel a similar wall of exhaustion as the sun is threatening to peek over the horizon. “Might wanna ditch the jeans before you nod off again.”

Sam starts to do as he says and wiggles out of his pants, shoving them to the floor carelessly. Bucky nods at Sam and heads to the door.

“Hey Buck?” Sam’s voice is quiet, like he almost doesn’t want Bucky to hear him. Bucky turns back toward the bed anyway. Sam looks at Bucky through heavy lidded eyes and frowns. “I’m sorry that we couldn’t pretend... Even for a few hours. The  _ world _ we live in… I’ll always fly myself into the middle of the fight. I’m sorry I can’t be...”

Sam’s eyes are closed as he says the last sentence, and he turns onto his side, as if he’s forgotten he was saying something at all.

Bucky’s heartbeat quickens and his throat grows tight. He watches Sam until he’s positive the man has fallen back into a deep sleep.

“You don’t ever have to be sorry for that, Sam.” Bucky sighs as Sam snores softly. “That’s one of the things I love about you.”

Bucky walks out of the room and shuts the door softly. He walks back downstairs to get his water and make sure all the doors and windows are shut. By the time he makes it back upstairs, he’s not sure he’ll be able to sleep at all.

He spots the book and the note by his bed. He picks the novel up and sits down in the reading chair.

He falls asleep somewhere between Jackie’s time at UCLA and the “noble experiment” with his legs tucked beneath him and his vibranium hand propping the book against them.

*****

After the exhausting trip to New York, Sarah and Jody are around constantly, which Bucky is thankful for considering the weird state in which he found his relationship with Sam.

They share more stories of both of their childhoods late in the night when they're alone. Bucky feeling his memories clearer than ever before as he settles into a comfortable domesticity.

Bucky finishes the book. He talks to Sam about it. Sam tells Bucky his version of all the other life changing moments in history that are important to him.

He promises to take Bucky to a baseball game.

All four of them go out to a local neighborhood restoration event together, gardening and trash clean up. Their appearance makes national news.

Fury sends them a gift basket. There's a note on it asking how the contracts are coming along.

Bucky doesn't comment when Sam throws it away.

*****

True to her word, Pepper swings by with Morgan one day, meeting an awestruck Sarah and Jody with warm hugs. They have lunch and Pepper asks Morgan if she wanted to stay and hang out with the Avengers. Morgan is already incredibly taken with Sam and Jody and barely takes time out of playing the dancing game on the game console to wave goodbye.

By dinnertime, Sam, Jody and Morgan have started making pizza, and quite a bit of a mess as well.

Bucky leaves the kitchen just as flour ends up in Jody's hair, thinking almost fondly that later, this will be Bucky's mess to clean up.

Bucky walks the bottles of beer he liberated from the kitchen war zone out onto the porch where Sarah is camped out on the steps.

"How bad is it looking?" She leans back on a higher step and cranes her neck to look at Bucky.

He hands her one of the beers and sits on the top step.

"You should probably order some takeout."

"I was  _ just _ checking out some doordash options." Sarah giggles, bring her beer up for a hearty swig. "Got an order ready and

e'rything, just had to click send."

She fiddles with her phone for a moment then puts it down beside her on the steps.

"So."

Bucky looks up at Sarah's single prompting word. She's angled to the side, and has her neck twisted to stare at him. She's got a look of sympathy in her eyes already and Bucky heaves a sigh.

"I talked to Bruce."

"Okay, you wait right there a second-" Bucky squints and points a finger at her with the hand holding his beer.

"Calm down, man. It's not what you think. We mostly talked about…" Sarah waves her hand around in a vague motion. "We didn't talk about you  _ that _ much. And I'm not here to give you a hard time about my brother. But he did say that you hadn't known about Jody's father."

Bucky sobers from his defensive state instantly, his eyes going soft.

"Sam never-" Bucky's voice breaks and he nods at Sarah. "We've never actually talked about Riley. But he, uh… he brought me to see him a couple days ago."

"Oh  _ shit _ ." Sarah's eyebrows go up and she sips her beer. She smiles and winks at Bucky. "Sam must be real serious about keeping you around if he did  _ that _ ."

Bucky rolls his eyes.

"I just wanted to clear up with you that Riley was definitely Jody's father in every way the mattered." Sarah takes a deep breath. "But he wasn't my husband. We never made it there. We were young, and such polar opposites. It was an antagonistic relationship most of the time. Very competitive. We hadn't ever even dated, despite the years and years of  _ almost _ . So, no, we never meant to have a kid. Sam, in particular, was freaking out when I got pregnant. He gave us both a very uncomfortable lecture on how irresponsible we'd been."

Sarah laughs fondly. She stops for a moment and Bucky notices her playing with the delicate chain of the necklace she always wears.

"But I loved Riley unconditionally in whatever way. And he always tried to do right by me. And we all loved and raised Jody together. The three of us." Sarah sighs. "But then it was two of us. And Jody barely remembers having a dad, but Sam… Sam will never forget him. Neither will I."

Bucky stretches his vibranium hand out to touch her shoulder, squeezing lightly.

"I'm sorry." Bucky speaks low, voice raspy around the heart stuck in his throat. "I can't imagine going through something like that. But I'm glad you all have each other."

Sarah twists to look at him once again, her eyes shining and a bit red.

"We've got you now, too."

Bucky just barely holds back an embarrassing sob of relief.

"Yeah." Bucky nods, pulling his hand away to fiddle with the label on his beer. "You do."

"You know…" Sarah takes another sip of beer and squints toward the sound of a train horn far off in the distance. "I don't think either of you are used to wanting things just for yourselves. You know… not taking care of someone else all the time? They way you both had to when you were young? And the way you both did in the service? And then again for Steve? I'm thinking maybe you're both just at a loss for  _ how _ ."

Bucky lets her words sink in, tries to figure out what she wants him to do with them. Before he can ask, there are shouts of laughter feom inside the house and then Sam comes out the front door, covered in flour and with some tomato sauce on his forehead.

Bucky's stomach flips, but this time, he revels in the feeling. He just wishes he could settle the emotions by taking the other man's hand or pulling him into his arms.

"This your spot now?" Sam jokes, squeezing onto the top step next to Bucky. His sister twists to put her back against the railing and then leans her head against her brothers knee.

"Yep. It's where we sit and talk shit about your dumb ass." Sarah grins up at Sam.

"My ass is  _ fine _ ." Sam huffs. "I work hard for this ass."

"You're so stupid." Sarah shakes her head, but she and Bucky laugh anyway.

Sam looks up at Bucky, his smile growing as they meet eyes. Sam grabs the mostly full beer bottle from Bucky and takes a swig.

"So, have you guys ordered back up dinner yet?" Sam arches an accusing eyebrow. "Though our pizza will be  **_perfect_ ** , and I cannot believe you would ever doubt us."

"I ordered Indian food." Sarah waves her phone at him. "Goes great with pizza. It'll be here in 24 minutes. Did you tell the kids to wash up?"

Sam nods.

"Guess I should take my own advice as well, huh?" He says, looking down at his pizza-ingredient-covered jogging shorts and t-shirt.

"I think it's a good look." Bucky shrugs, stealing his beer back. "Plus, you're helping me clean that mess up later, so you might as well not get too clean."

Sam's narrowed eyes as he opts not to respond is enough to make Bucky smile around the mouth of the beer, finishing it off with a wink.

"Well, I am gonna make sure those kids are clean enough to sit on your sofa." Sarah sighs. "And then I'm going to put in the movie we're watching during dinner because I am excited to see it again. It's been  _ years _ ."

Sarah stands up and hands her almost empty beer to Sam before climbing the tiny space left on the stairs between the two men.

After the door shuts behind Sarah, the quiet of the evening settles around them.

Bucky fiddles with his empty beer bottle, listening to the homey sound of children playing and laughing in the distance. He spares a thought for Wakanda and for the third or fourth time in a matter of days, he makes a note to arrange a visit.

"Fine."

Bucky looks up at Sam, confused. Sam rolls his eyes.

"Let's do it."

Bucky's slow and steady heartbeat stutters and trips up. He clears his throat before he responds.

"Do what?"

"Let's take what we want. Think of ourselves first. Let's just stay here. Like this." Sam shrugs. "Steve will understand. S.H.I.E.L.D. might not. But Steve would. Our friends would. That's all that matters."

Bucky runs his eyes across Sam's face. There are tiny lines around his eyes, and a dimple peeking out of his beard at that same spot on his cheek that Bucky adores. Despite running around with a couple of kids all day, the man looks far less exhausted than he has since Bucky has known him.

He's happy here.

Sam is happy just sitting at home with family, watching their friend's kid, hanging out with his sister.

He's happy with Bucky.

But Bucky knows, deep down, that wouldn't last forever. Sam is the kind of man who can't sit back when there is a battle to be fought. He's not the type to do nothing while the world needs help.

"I would never ask you to do that, Sam." Bucky shakes his head. Sam raises both eyebrows at him in surprise, but the smile doesn't leave his face. Bucky tilts his head, considering. "Well… maybe not…  _ never _ . Once we get to Steve's age, we better not still be doing this hero shit. But this is the road I chose Sam. Sure, sometimes I look at you and I wish it was a safer, quieter, road. One where I could make sure that nothing happened to you, or your sister, or Jody, or any of us. But I'm just like you Sam. I'll always want to help. I'll always show up for the fight. That's what led me here."

Sam's smile grows wider and he takes a sip of Sarah's beer in an effort to hide it. Bucky watches the line of his neck as he swallows. Traces his profile as he stares into the sunset.

"You'd stay by my side that long?" Sam asks him, looking forward instead of at Bucky. "If I still had the shield, you'd stick with me til we looked like wrinkly old Grandpa Rogers?"

Bucky laughs, loud and surprised. Sam turns to him, laughing right along at his own words. Bucky leans closer, presses his knee to Sam's.

They stay that way until the laughter subsides. Thighs pressed together, the air around them warm and charged with more than just the gentle static of the humid air. It should be strange or awkward, sitting there, staring at each other in silence, dopey smiles on their faces. Bucky feels like under different circumstances, this might be the moment where he leans in, kisses Sam's bright smile, biting at his full lips they way he'd been thinking about for the past couple weeks.

But they have a lot of time ahead of them, and Bucky doesn't want to rush this.

So he breathes in deep and sighs happily instead. He reaches a hand up and wipes the drying sauce off Sam's cheekbone with an exaggerated grimace.

"You should sign the papers, Sam. Tell them we're in. I'll be by your side, shield or no shield, Wilson." Bucky smirks, rubbing at the spot on Sam's face until the sauce is gone. "After you wash your face though, maybe. You've got flour in your mustache. And pretty much like-"

Bucky uses the hand that's still touching Sam's cheek and instead motions at Sam's entire face.

Sam bats Bucky's hand away with a huff.

"We were having a moment, asshole."

Bucky just smiles at him.

"Yeah." Bucky hums contentedly. He stands up onto the porch and holds a hand out to help Sam up as well. "We can have another one when there's less people in the house and you aren't covered in pizza ingredients."

Sam takes his hand and stands up so that they're toe to toe. Sam ignores what he's said and presses closer, bringing a hand to Bucky's hip, sliding it under his loose t-shirt until his palm is pressing against Bucky's skin. He leans in til their foreheads are touching. Bucky's hands come up to grip Sam's elbows and he closes his eyes, leaning into the touch.

"I've never thought I could have all of it, Barnes." Sam's voice rasps out, low and so deep that Bucky can feel it vibrate in his bones. It feels hard to breathe, like the air around them has less oxygen than it should, but Bucky would be fine with that for the rest of time if it meant having Sam in his arms. He feels Sam's breath on his skin with every word as he keeps talking in the same rough, desperate tone. "There's always been so many sacrifices, so many things that we- _that I_ had to give up. But when you look at me, it feels like I get to have it all. I don't have to leave anything behind ever again, because everything I want? You're a part of _all of it_. Tell me that goes both ways, Buck."

Bucky wants to tell him that it's so much more than that. That it's this feeling of _home_ and _right_ and _mine,_ that Bucky hasn't known what to do with since it started. It's the terrifying unknown rhythm in his chest that Bucky thinks is probably love. It's the way Bucky's breath caught in his throat the first time Sam cracked a joke at him, so long ago it feels like another lifetime. It's the way it keeps doing the _same_ _damn_ _thing_ every time he sees Sam smile at him.

"I been sayin' this whole time, Wilson." Bucky says instead. "If  _ all of it _ is  _ you _ , then yeah. I want that too."

"Fuck." Sam huffs, pulling away. Bucky opens his eyes to find Sam grinning at him. "Always getting sappy on me."

Bucky shrugs and leans in, pressing his lips to Sam's smile. Sam makes a soft, low noise of approval and presses back before angling for a better, firmer kiss.

Sam pulls away as Bucky hears the oven timer, followed immediately by pounding feet against the floor just inside the door.

"Go inside and see if your pizza is edible, I'll wait here for the back up food to arrive when its not." Bucky says and pushes Sam toward the door.

Sam shakes his head, but goes inside with a grin on his face. There are shouts of excitement and laughter coming from inside when Bucky looks out at the now quickly-setting sun.

The light is coming from the right angle. The air is perfectly warm.

Bucky can barely remember a time when he considered this city, this street, this house, a foreign place. Now, it feels like nothing but  _ home _ .


End file.
